Wild About Harry
by PepperScripts
Summary: Set in Regency, Harry Potter is a lord about to tie the knots with his two-year fiancee. However, when nothing goes as planned, he meets a charming, tantalizing courtesan and soon after...her husband? Warning: HP/HG/DM
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello guys, this chapters been done for a few days now and I just wanted to take some time into writing up the first-third before introducing this story, incase I lost my inspiration. However, since I didn't, I'm able to put up this brand new story that I started- So here it is…Enjoy :D

Xxxx

Prologue

London, May 2nd, 1810

Mr. Harry James Potter had reached a decision. Now all he had to do was find a way to tell his fiancée.

For most of the day, he had trotted up and down the old bank in hopeless pursuit for a bit of courage, a bit of luck. Of course, rather than coming upon that, his continuous ponderings of his settlement only added to his dismay. The thought of ruining his relationship with the love of his life, and at the pinnacle of their association as well, made him want to dunk his head underwater and never come up. In lesser words, he was extremely, profoundly terror-stricken.

" 'm not suggesting that I would let you within two hundred feet of my sister, but I must admit that she is not high maintenance. I don't see what you're so anxious about. Most men wouldn't mind as long as her virtue was instilled. All of your worrying will have been over nothing." Several hours later, Harry sat in the heavily curtained back of a parlor with his good friend and colleague, Mr. Ronald Weasley.

"There's the root of the trouble. I don't want to just marry her and be done with it…," Harry paused and searched for the right words, "I'm in love with her, Ron. I want to savor her, to woo her; to satisfy her dreams. You are well acquainted with the complexities of the female mind, of course. It leaves no room for error. Even the slightest blunder could make way to a pool of doubts. Her happiness is the key; I just…have not a simple clue of where to begin looking." He breathed a long sigh and wearily helped himself to a piece of treacle tart.

After a moment of uncomprehending silence, Ron quietly replied with a sickened look, "Good Lord man, you are positively whipped."

Harry's boyish, young face rose up in petrified outrage, "I am not!"

"This is bloody brilliant, my sister's got you by the ball sack and strung you up like one of her horses." His comrade continued, determined to tease him into a stupor.

Harry regained his composure, and with an impish smile he said, "I assure you, I have not forgotten last summer when you doused Miss. Brown with more affection then I could ever give your sister in a life time. I had remembered, and correct me if I'm wrong; you had bowed down to her _every_ command… like a pitiable bitch."

"Care to rephrase that, Potter? Even with these ales holding me down, I can still aim fairly well for that blundering bush of yours." He voiced with whimsical displeasure.

Harry gave out a soft laugh at that, "Oh keep your shirt on. Besides, I'm meeting with your sister at half past ten and this face must stay in its proper form, as ruggedly handsome as it is." Harry stroked his chin in an arrogant manner and laughed joyously whilst his friend hung his head out the window and pretended to gag.

They both continued to laugh and drink. It renewed Harry's efforts to marrying into Miss Weasley's family. He adored her and adored her family very much so. He owed them dearly for taking care of him and being the only legitimate family he ever had. And he was, indeed, in love with Miss Weasley, or so he kept reminding himself. There was always a hint of anxiety that played out in his mind at the thought of their wedding; it being _theirs_, of course, not the immateriality of the wedding itself.

Miss Weasley was spectacular, truly extraordinary; a marvel still to be discovered and yet even in his love for her there was a complicated feeling of -how could he describe it?-… error on the wind. He was in awe by the splendor that she walked so easily and –he confessed- if he could devote his life to pleasuring hers, he would give all the money he'd ever had, have, or will ever be able to come into possession of. But more than once, and this is where his hesitation had stemmed, he had found her in close quarters to more than a handful of her pompous, secret admirers. Of course, she had promptly put his mind at peace and clearly explained that she held no interest in them. Nevertheless, for all his easygoing manner, there was always that lack of confidence that reared its ugly head whenever he saw her with another man.

Time flew as Ron joked about the most conventional of subjects, and by and by the corners of ten and fifteen pressed tightly on the grandfather clock. Harry had bid adieu to his good friend, squared his shoulders, and marched out of the parlor like a man ready for battle. Before stepping out the door, he dropped a galleon onto the bar counter and said his farewells to the plump bartender.

Calling for his carriage, he slowly made his way in the direction of the Theatre Royal. And on his lonely ride through the streets, he clutched the black velvet box in his coat pocket. In it contained the ring that at one time belonged to his mother, and he would use it to propose to Miss Weasley.

An uneasy reticence had once again encroached upon him, clouding him with grief. He had wanted to marry for love, as his mother and father had done, and surely his grandparents before them. He wondered concernedly if he was making the right decision. Was it too soon for the young Miss. Weasley? Had he been too hasty in his mission to have her all to himself?

Why were woman so bloody complicated, he sadly whined, if they would just bound over their senseless games and speak what they truly feel then perhaps all the world would be at peace, and he wouldn't have this torrid, wrenching feeling in his gut that would surely place him on the path of attaining an early death.

Quickly he shook his head of it. There was no time to have second thoughts now.

Xxxx

The theater was filled to the brim, as always, with the arrogant, overbearing aristocrats of society seated left and right, and the rare two or three pairs of middle class families seated at the far back. He shook his head and muttered a belittling remark under his breath. He had tried to stay hidden in the shadows but as he strolled down the entryway towards his sky box, the audience, upon a glimpse of merely his decrepit locks had diverted their gaze and inspected him with an up-tucked, quizzical brow. The appearance of London's notoriously renowned Boy-Who-Lived and entrenched bachelor had the audience gleaming with curiosity as to the reason why he would arrive near the finale of the play rather than its commencement.

He sat comfortably, cloaked in darkness and at once the lingering stares were pulled back to the action onstage. The players did not notice the rise and fall of conversation, too in depth with the tragedy that they were acting out. The play had resumed in scene three, taking place at the churchyard where Juliet was entombed.

Harry dotingly eyed the woman onstage, clothed in a flowing gown the color of jade crystals which blended well with her fiery red mane and set off her rosy complexion. She lied placidly on the leaden tablet with a peaceful expression on her face, as if in a deep sleep. The natural grace she held in her art enthralled him completely, as it did everyone else. She had made a name for herself; Ginny did, even if at first she had humbly requested his influence to give her career the boost it needed.

The man playing Romeo tipped over the flask of his deathly potion and with one foul swoop of his lines, he fell forwards onto Ginny. Harry's face turned sour as the young lad's face landed surreptitiously between his fiancée's breasts. Soon after the shameless _prick_ had fallen and Friar Lawrence and Balthasar got their two bits in, Ginny had slowly opened her sparkling, beguiling baby-blues and sat up. Fortunately for his sanity, her sitting up had flipped the little snot off her, and Harry was delighted at hearing the resonant thump of his head on the firm cherry wood boards.

Ginny peered around and abruptly her face widened in shock at seeing her lover, as per the role of her character. She immediately turned around and spoke to the man playing Friar Lawrence; in which he would state that her husband was dead and that they must flee the tomb at once. She adamantly rejected and fell to her knees in tearful sob next to Romeo whilst the Friar had fled the scene,

"What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?  
>Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:<br>O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop  
>To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;<br>Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,  
>To make die with a restorative."<p>

Harry watched indignantly as his fiancée pressed her lips brazenly onto the bastard's own coarse set. He twitched in frustration when the kiss lasted more than a few seconds and dotted them off with the timepiece he carried in his pocket.

Finally, after a good-well two minutes of his life, they had broken apart. And Ginny leaned over Romeo in despair, an expression of grief clouding her pretty face. She gently stroked the cleft of the pillock's chin and followed downwards to his neck. Still with a sour look to his face, Harry controlled his killing instincts. He willed himself not to take action of the prodding insult to his masculinity that lay right in front of him. While in his subconscious mind, a horde of images of the wonderful things he would be able to do if he could get his hands on that bastard had him, _at least_, vaguely pleased.

Xxxx

The play had approached a most appreciative end and everyone had bowed for their curtain call. As the congregation filed out the doors and the applauses stopped, Harry headed sneakily backstage to surprise his darling fiancée. As he strolled through the crowded hallway, many heads nodded in his direction as well as many comments of gratitude.

Upon reaching her door, he lifted his fist to knock. Tapping at the door three times, there was no answer.

"Miss Weasley?" He called uncertainly. With a cocked eyebrow, he slowly turned the knob and strolled into her room. The area was empty, but she had been here before. He would know. Her boudoir was open and lay bare for all to see. Her brushes and combs were messily spread around the vanity, and her kohl pens, face creams, and powders were all unfastened, sitting there for anyone to take. This was very mysterious considering that on rare occasion would she ever let him touch her things. Now out of nowhere she had disappeared without a note, not even bothering to cover her accoutrements.

He stepped out and went in search for her.

"Did you enjoy the show, Mr. Potter?" A cheerful voice assaulted him. Harry turned back, as to not be rude, and came face to face with a smiling man. He was aged to be in his 60's, with kindly eyes and a rather plump stomach.

"Yes, quite. It was marvelous as always." Harry politely nodded with a small grin before proceeding to cut to the chase, "Have you seen Miss Weasley?"

"Ah, Miss Weasley, I had seen her walk out into the back alleys for a smoke."

"I see. Well, then I shall be going along to fetch her, I must ask her something. Good day."

"Good day, Milord. And might I say that this is a terribly good day for a wedding." The man grinned, a wizened look in his eyes that made the wrinkles on his forehead slightly crease.

Harry peered back at the man, truly curious as to how he would have guessed.

The man eyed him with an amused glint and replied, "I'm an old man… I speak from my own observations."

And that seemed the answer too it all. "Thank you, sir." Harry gave him a true smile and left hurriedly to the back of the building. His strides were long and energetic. In his heart, the thing that he could not identify before, that had blocked him from ever reaching the cusp of his love for Ginny had been knocked away, crashed down, plundered on, and he could feel it. Love was giving him the energy that he had never possessed and his mind was completely made up, he had to have her.

Harry took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and opened the archway that leaded into the alleys.

"Ginny, I've been meaning-," As quick as the words came rushing out of his mouth, it was cut off by the scene he had stumbled into.

Red lipstick was smudged cruelly about her face. Her hair was messily pulled back to show her innocent breasts, heaving up and down from the desperation of her lovemaking. She rutted wildly against the dirty, rotten walls of the alley, gasping and reaching out for something that was not there. Her beautiful legs wrapped tighter around her stranger as she arched herself up to embrace him further. The man was tanner than him with brown hair and ropy muscles. He was in between her thighs, pounding relentlessly, tearing into the virtue that should've been his. That was his.

In that instance the air became slightly chilled and the atmosphere filled with electricity. The world had frozen, the clock pointing stock still at exactly half past ten. Nothing moved anymore, anywhere. Not a body, not a bird, not a soul; and for a split second there was only silence.

A shutter of a camera recorded the stillness of this thin slice of time. And a long time later, the picture would be finally developed and he would have realized that this was the moment it began.

The clock ticked. Everything moved again.

"Oh shite!" She cried. Harry felt her eyes on him but he could not stare back, would not. Instead, he looked to the opening ahead of them and saw a little man holding his camera as if it was worth his life. When the cameraman saw that he had been spotted, he tucked his equipment quickly back into his bag and dashed away in the opposite direction, taking the evidence of this vicious scandal with him to be developed. And by tomorrow morning it would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet, Harry thought with dread.

He stood frozenly at the door, still too shocked to move or answer.

"Harry…" His name was softly spoken but he could not comprehend it. After the second or third try, a hand grasped onto his arm.

"Harry!" He peered up at Ginny. Her face was inches away from him and her grip was desperate. "Harry, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it!"

Ginny held his gaze with extreme fear, fear of the loss of the pedestal in which he had given her. Feeling as if she was falling off the edge of the precipice as seconds passed by without her answering him, she tried a different strategy, "It was not my fault!"

"Than who's fault is it?" Harry spat back at her, embarrassment driving him into a rage.

"I-," She searched cautiously for the answer but was swiftly cut off.

"No, Ginny! No more lying, no more scheming and pretending! For one goddamn bloody moment in your life, tell me the truth!"

"I love you!" She cried, now holding his arm with both of her hands. "I love you so much, Harry! Please forgive me!"

Harry clenched his jaw and strained to speak calmly, "Is this what you call loving me? You betrayed me, Ginny, to another man, and he has his seed in your belly! Do you have any idea what this means? You may have his bastard child in your womb!"

She nestled herself deeper into his arms, and he rapidly gripped her shoulders and pushed her away until she was at arms length. "Listen to me! I loved you-!"

Oh, how his heart ached as he stared at the tears dripping down her rosy cheeks. Each one, a perfectly formed glass spear and its tips were dipped in poison so that it would plunge easily into his heart without restraint.

"-So much. And yet I was not enough, was I?"

She didn't respond.

"I'm sorry, Miss Weasley." His tone had softened a bit, "But I am no longer worthy of your affections."

"No…no," Ginny pleaded with him, "My darling, you will always be worthy. Always…" She paused and gently took his face into her hands, "I have done you wrong, and I know that now. And it was a mistake, a complete mistake which had afflicted our strong affections for one another, and I ask you to forgive me. Please, my love. Forgive me and all will be well."

"Do you truly think that we would come back to what we once were if I were to accept?" He said spitefully, "Your actions have made it perfectly clear that our relationship, I can see now, was only based on the mutual indulgence of distrust and bitterness. I knew all along that you had been hiding secrets from me, and now my suspicions have been confirmed." He inhaled and finished it, "This is it, Miss Weasley. Good night."

He pulled her hands to her side and left.

Xxxx


	2. A Sinful Engagement

A/N: This chapter was particularly long due to the _hot smut_. I'm not sure if I should've just skipped the sex scene but since I did it I don't want to delete it. I mean, truly, the sex scene alone took a week to do because I've never done one before and I had to use different smut books and fanfics for resource, and a many very embarrassing thoughts. No, you little horny imps, I will not explain the thoughts, but here you go. Chapter two…or rather one…which is after the prologue. Yeah XD!

Warning: **Sexual Content**

Chapter One: A Sinful Engagement

He had no idea what he was doing here.

Before coming here, he had battled with himself to continue his game of self pity at home. Then after several minutes of that thought circulating his mind, he questioned why he had thought of it in the first place. It would do him no good to be with himself; for one, he didn't really feel like being alone, and for two, it would only make him appear weak and desperate to have Ginny back. Which he kind of was, but that was beside the point. And there lie the tang of revenge on his tongue.

So instead, he turned his head indifferently and rode to the outskirts of the city, seeking a type of vengeance of his own. Ron had spoken in kind of this establishment more than once, not that he'd ever been there before. The Red Lion was a very famous brothel that was held in high regard by the young and wealthy males of great society. To get in, gentlemen were required to attire themselves with their evening's best, and it appeared that only the most gorgeous of males were allowed admittance.

There was an airy lust charm surrounding the salon in the form of a sheer fog. Just as Harry had stepped in through the doors, the entire atmosphere had changed- currents of hot, sexual desire sizzled throughout the room, baking him with a light sweat. The chamber was filled with young and beautiful jades, men and women alike. They smiled and bantered with their patrons while exuding the charm of well-bred debutantes.

Around him, dozens of people were having sex. He blushed even at the thought of the word, sex- there was a gentleman in the corner to his right lifting up a woman's skirts to examine the quality of her quim, which was shaved perfectly bare; around the other corner, a woman's creamy thighs were wrapped around another man's hips as he held her up against the carpeted wall to penetrate her even better; right ahead of him there was a man who shook off his trousers and signaled for the woman kneeling in front of him to suckle him into her mouth as he thrust; And just a few feet away from him there was a lovely boy eating out a gentlemen's mouth while groping the bulging groin of his patron in between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry flushed behind his black leather mask as he watched the erotic bargains be made and the various couplings of two or three or more people play out. These hot temptations growing in his mind, in his loin was something unfamiliar for him. He had kept himself pure for his nuptial bed, but now that his proposal had been sullied on and ripped to pieces, like his heart, he found himself a bit adventurous to where the night might lead him. With an eon's worth of sexual abstinence forgotten, he confidently swallowed his second shot of absinthe and strode through the room in search of a prospect.

A busty courtesan strode by and tossed him a raunchy smile. He followed her with his eyes and examined her delicious backside swaying lightly side to side. He pondered if he should tap her on the shoulder, but a stout fellow had gotten to her before he could. He went deeper into the room and demurely eyed each desirable temptress, unfortunately finding none who were not already seated with a companion.

_Just his luck_, he sighed, seconds away from putting an end to this horrid evening with a bottle of rum.

Before long, if not seconds after he had paled with his misfortune, a tune commenced softly from deep within the halls. It hummed teasingly in the air as it would crook its fingers at him in a come hither motion. He slowly turned his head and stalked in its direction, subjecting himself to the hypnotic song. Even with his knowledge, he could not pin point the exact ballad that was being performed. He picked out only three sets of keys involved in the composition and it made him even more curious as to who created such a clever piece.

His searching had brought him to the front of a large admiring crowd -and there she sat, only a few feet away from him. A blossoming, tawny-eyed beauty working up and down the keys with the skills rivaling a master's, and still he ached to be closer to her. She was a bit below average height, but he was sure no one could describe her as short, and she had a generous, ripe figure with a pleasing chest and narrow hips, in excellent proportion, shown off in a gauzy, flowing gown that hid more than what most girls were wearing. Her hair and eyes were a light chestnut, and though not quite distinct they were anything but typical. Under her full mane of riotous curls, she had a fair, rosy complexion that set off the sparkle in her eyes and blended nicely with her sea-foam dyed silk.

"Exquisite." A gentleman said from the back.

"Delicious." Another muttered.

She appeared to him, and for the rest of the gentlemen eyeing her, a forbidden fruit. Though no one could keep their eyes off her, there was a silent agreement that hung in the air that she was off limits- only to be watched and not touched unless she willed it so. He had a glimpse of her lips, dusky rose against that pale skin that shined brightly under the shady lamps, and ached at the thought of what she could do to him with those delectable, sinful lips.

He waited from afar, and watched as she denied one man to the next. From handsome to ugly, and old to young- She denied them all, not caring the least for their displeasure.

As hours passed into the beginnings of the night, the once uproarious crowd had dwindled down until there was only a handful left. He regarded her nervously as she packed her things and headed towards the bar where he was timidly waiting for her.

"Winston, I'll have a Bloody Mary." She gestured towards the barkeeper as she sat down next to Harry.

She looked around and Harry flinched as she caught him staring at her. He averted his gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling more scared than he'd ever had in his life. He heard a light snicker from her and wished to hear her laugh more. Oh, this is ridiculous! He thought inwardly of the situation.

"Evening, Milord." Struck by the loveliness of her voice, it was moments before he answered her, "Good evening."

"Is this your first time here?"

"Is it so vaguely apparent?"

"Very. You don't seem the type of person to turn up in _these_ types of places."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I can tell- It's from your smell, your countenance; one look at you is all I need." She replied good-humoredly, with a kindly smile.

"And what can you assume from your inspections?" He asked, quite curious.

She cocked an eyebrow and gave him a winsome smirk, "Judging just by your looks, I can tell that you're at least entitled to an Earldom. Your glossy black dragon-hide boots are bit too extravagant to be harbored by anyone of lesser rank. That also goes for the ten carat gold belt buckle around your waist, Monsieur. You smell," She moved her head closer to him, until the tip of her nose lightly patted the skin atop the thrumming of his heart. Oh lord, she smelled so fresh and alluring; a combination of innocent white freesia and sinful black carnet. And most torturous of all, the swelling of her two curvy breasts kept knocking against his arm as she swayed lightly in her chair for balance. He inhaled slowly and kept his arms to his side, as to not frighten her away- although he desired quite the opposite- He wanted desperately to hold her in his arms, to caress her slender waist, to be kneeling at her mercy.

"-so clean and pure, that I can assess you're not a drunkard, nor a manwhore- rather…you're still a virgin." A playful spark lit up in her eyes, and she gazed surreptitiously at him from under her hooded eyes.

"Your cheeks are the colors of stained rouge, hinting of your embarrassment, but also your immense attraction to me- And I thank you for such a kind compliment. However," Her voice lowered huskily as her piercing russet orbs trailed lower to the front of his trousers, "as I can see the ever growing bulge in your pants is telling me that you have less than gentlemanly intentions towards me." If possible, she widened her smirk, "Oh Dear, how shall I respond to this?"

He had no words.

Her fingernails trailed the underside of his belly and descended so that it was right against the swell of his pants. She pushed lightly, teasingly until he could handle no more, "A kiss." He cried exhaustedly.

"Pardon?"

He bit his lip before continuing, "I-I had hoped that -excuse me…" He cleared his throat, "I know you will refuse me too, among all of your…more experienced suitors, my lady. And you will haunt my nights forever after, but I had hoped that perhaps you will evaluate me not by my inexperience but by my kiss as a trade… for a night in your bed." He looked fervent after stumbling through his statements.

A long pause followed, "That's a very interesting bargain. Is your kiss so precious that it could equal in worth the pleasure I can give you?" Her clean, cool breath fanned his face.

"You will have to evaluate that for yourself." He gave her a small smile.

"Indeed, I will." She gracefully stood in front of him. "I must warn you though that I will covet only the rarest of items. So before I begin, I need to know how many have blemished these lips."

A pang of sadness rung deep within his stomach, "Only one."

"One? How surprising. I had thought you must be courting dozens at least."

"You flatter me. But no, there was only one."

"Where is she?"

"She's with someone else."

"Oh." She didn't sound as if she cared much.

They stood suspended. She maneuvered him until his waist met the sturdy edge of the bar counter. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist to bring her ever so closer to his body. But it wasn't enough. The clothes restricted him from what he truly wanted, what he yearned for.

She was surprised at how firm the muscular flesh felt under her hands, and at the same time the softness of his skin exuded warmth that curdled her heavy lust for him. She stroked his cheeks with the pads of her fingers, delighted to see the demure redness still glowing. How virginal he looked, she thought, her eyes immediately darkening as they passed once more up and down his figure. Oh if he'd known the vulnerability of his countenance only made him that much more irresistible.

Finally, her patience erupted and she could not hold back any longer, she found his mouth and kissed it with her tongue and teeth. After a moment's hesitation where Harry scrambled for order, in which he found none, he began kissing her back with clumsy eagerness. The intelligence of her tongue tamed his kisses, and he wielded to her wicked sucks on his lower lip and nips at his upper one. Her tongue was a feral thing and it did not leave one corner of his mouth untouched. And slowly, as if waking up from a dream, she separated their mouths and peered up at him with a dazed expression.

Quickly, her mouth swept up into a lewd grin.

"That was…delicious." She giggled her mirth.

He took a moment to get a hold of himself before answering, "So you accept?"

She nodded once, "I am satisfied, but we have to make this perfectly clear, my Sweet." Her lips pursed together to make the 's' sound and her hot breath washed to the tips of his ears, making the hair of his neck jump in anticipation. "I am offering you a night of pleasure. One night, and that is it. You will not come searching for me afterwards, and you shall never find me again. You will not endeavor yourself to be affectionate towards me while we have sex. We're speaking a universal language of pleasure, do you understand?"

He stared up at her challengingly, hesitantly, but seeing her cold resolve he managed a slow nod. "Alright."

She beamed at him and grabbed his hand, "Than let us retreat to a more private place."

Xxxx

The cheap, tallow candle flicked waveringly in its stand and provided the room with little to no light. His glasses were carelessly thrown onto the drawer next to the bed as he fought for control.

"Mmm," Hermione kissed fervently, holding his face to hers. She shoved her hand into his hair and tilted his head back so she could lave the salts from his neck. Pushing him backwards onto the bed, she straddled his waist and commenced undressing him. With every slender limb and solid muscle revealed it seemed to go straight to her core, heightening her lust to the point of no return. When she had removed everything, she took a moment and stared at him.

"Umm…wh-what now?" He stuttered, feeling her predatory gaze on him.

"Patience, dear heart- Let me devour you with my eyes before I devour you with my mouth."

Speechless, Harry lied there and watched as she slowly removed her silk dress. His mouth went dry as he stared fixatedly at the succulent pink color of her areolae. They pointed at him, begging him closer for a long good licking. As his eyes moved further down, he became shocked at the revealing of such smooth, ivory-white skin and the fine down on it a bit darker than her hair color. She was smooth, creamy, satiny perfection.

Leaving the nightgown to hang over the back of a chair, she crouched onto her knees and leveled her stare with his. Giving him a toothy smile, she started laving his toes with the back of her tongue. Taking his toes into her mouth, she suckled them lustily like she would soon suck his cock. His legs seemed to go on forever, unusually hairless and ropy with knotted muscles. His skin was as smooth as a baby's bottom, and as she came up toward his thighs she was able to inspect his beautiful member. It was as lean and untouched as every other part of him- and it was first and foremost hers.

"Have you ever fantasized about a mouth around your cock?"

He whimpered at the sensuality of her voice, the lustiness of its tone going straight to his groin. "I-I have not."

"_Lies_. And for punishment I'm going to suckle you until you're dead dry, my dear." She winked at him.

"Gods!" Harry cried out with pleasure as he felt her mouth envelop him. He looked at her with wild bewilderment, and she gave him a most provocative smile as she took more of him into her mouth. She pushed downwards to fit more into her mouth and then pulled herself up while at the same time playing her tongue over the tip of his manhood.

This was contrary to every moral that he'd ever held in regard, but it felt too good to stop. All his strength had gone to that one place between his legs, and his face contorted in an agony that spoke of pure, delicious pleasure.

The sound of his breath catching made her that much more determined to pleasure him, and she sucked harder, hallowing out her cheeks so he could feel all of her squeezing him.

Harry moaned in surprise, and his excited squeal sent another pulse of heat flooding to her quim. It wasn't long before he raised his clumsy arms and pushed them through her hair, clasping onto the thick curls. She let him set the pace and moaned noisily around his cock as he thrust quicker and quicker into her mouth. She fondled his ballocks, juggling the two eggs playfully in her palm and toyed with the long, raven curls between his thighs.

He was pleading now, "No, this is too much. I-I'm going to come."

She cocked her brow and took her mouth off him, making him groan at the sudden burst of cold air, "That's the idea." Her voice gave off her amusement.

"But it's not right for you to—,"

"There is no right or wrong whilst we're in this room. Until the light of the morning, you and I are man and woman, indifferent to the rules of society. So tell me all your desires," She breathed heatedly on his cock, still as straight and rigid as a maypole. "-all your needs, and wants."

He peered into her eyes, "For my first time, I don't want to come in your mouth. I_ want_ it to be inside you."

She laughed at that, "It is doable."

Filled with courage, he immediately flipped her onto her back. She giggled at first and than began to moan as two of his fingers drifted between her thighs and plunged into her wet heat. And then another, and another was added to her sick entrance, and he moved them in accordance to her varied expressions. He twisted them and plunged them into her heat. He learned the places that made her moan and cry out in pleasure. The spread of her thighs dripped clear mucus and she stared at him as if begging for his penetration. "Please," She gasped, breathless.

He quickly nodded, not being able to keep them both waiting any longer. He knelt in between her thighs and positioned himself at the entrance of her aroused sex. Harry cried out as he sank himself to the hilt, his teeth gritting as her sodden flesh gripped him like a hot glove. Never had he felt so much all at once. He could not believe that it was her hands encircling him, that it was her eyes staring up at him, watching him lose himself inside her. He liked this, wanted this; the pounding throbs in his ears, the heat, the sweat, the heated tightness of her squeezing the life out of him –God!- even the smell of her was an aphrodisiac. It was her- in his bed, in his…_heart._ And he knew- at that time he knew that there was no forgetting her. He could not honor her wishes after all, and if she chose to run then he would find her.

He grounded softly into her with slow, calculated thrusts. She whimpered at the near-blinding pleasure but grew impatient at the pace he was setting for himself. She sat up and threw her arms around his neck for balance, "No more control. Faster. And harder." She panted, hooking her legs around his waist and rolling her hips urgently, so that all his gentleness was consumed by her eagerness.

It was unnerving how he was following her instructions purely on instinct. Harry rolled his hips and slammed into her, forcing the air right out of her throat. She yelped as he drilled into her with sudden vivacity.

He was beyond restraint, oblivious, caught up in his search for his own pleasurable end. What had he been thinking to forsake himself 17 years of this! He brought himself to the edge of her sex and slammed back into her harder, his hands clamped to her breasts and twisting her cherubic nipples. He placed one into his mouth and sucked voraciously like a starving animal.

She whimpered and moaned pitifully into his ear, and when he had found her pleasure spot, the cries became so loud and so long -almost to the point where they shuddered a glass vase on his right- that he was surprised no one downstairs was rushing in to check if someone had died. Harry now understood the phrase men had used to describe some women as being "screamers". The screams trailed off and ascended again and again as he repeated the motion, increased the rhythm, driven by her seducing gaze.

"You're so beautiful." He told her, his eyes repeatedly taking in every detail of her body.

"I-I'm coming." She cried out.

Thank god, he thought to himself, having not the will to stave off his inevitable climax any longer. "Please come. Please." He begged her, hastily driving himself into her wet heat in a frenzy of rapid, hard thrusts.

Momentarily, she gave a piercing shriek that had her head falling backwards and her neck bared to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her pliant body closer to him. His head fell back and from his throat came a loud, resonating growl. His hips slammed into her suctioning width a final time and he released his seed into her in a cosmic explosion that left him tongue-tied and panting for purchase. His head automatically fell onto her heavenly chest and after he managed to get a breath in, he fell unconscious.

Xxxx


	3. Horrible Morning Headaches

A/N: I got SUPERRRR LAZY! And I ate like four bars of almond barks that weighed half a pound, so I feel like a FATTY along with feeling lazy. Now I just feel really, really bad, and I have a horrible headache. And I think my teeth got yellow-er or something because even with Crest 3-d Whitening Toothpaste, and flossing, and Crest Mouthwash, nothing is helping get these 32's whiter. Eh, whatev's. Next time I'm going to just stick with my instinct and buy Pro-namel. Enjoy.

**Chapter Two: Horrible Morning Headaches**

It was in the quiet of the night that he had opened his eyes and saw the fatal vision that would entwine him to her for the remainder of the next two months- or, rather, the next time they reunite. But he would not remember this until the late afternoon of the next day.

In his exhaustion, Harry had slept more comfortably there rather then he would have at home. Wrapped in cool silk, he had but one dream and it was twisted around the face of the delightful woman that had made his bed. He dreamt of her scintillating brown orbs staring down at him with gleeful laughter, and her face brightened with the cleverest smile he'd ever seen. There was no Ginny, no Voldemort, nor anybody else- Harry thought peacefully, content of a night's passing without his usual nightmares.

Suddenly, as if deriving from nowhere, the sound of rummaging to the right of him had broken the peace.

He opened his eyes and immediately his vision blurred. Along with that, he felt a sudden strange sensation drift over his mind. Her gentle hands perched at each side of his face and her fresh perfume filled his nose, "Sleep." She cooed, and he smiled up at her from his pillow, bathing in her adoration. The hovering cloud had shifted unknowingly to the back of his mind whilst in her presence. Her blurred face smiled down at him and he wanted dearly to tell her that he'd never met anyone like her before; that being near her radiance had left him love-struck and in need of her forever, that he could not leave her even if she dearly wished it. "I…" He started.

"Sleep." She repeated, stroking his cheek with the pads of her fingers. There was nothing he could do otherwise, his eyes already being powdered and primed by the sandman himself. Her voice was hypnotic as she repeated a final time and he could not go against her will. With not a thought of deception in his mind, he closed his eyes and continued slumbering. He wad dead to the world, and didn't see her itching her fingers into his boots; didn't see the wide, cat-like smile plastered on her face as she found what she'd been searching for; and certainly did not see her disappearing through his windows in an animated cloud of black smoke.

Xxxx

The morning light rose through the window curtains and hit his face, dying his skin orange. He groaned and tried to hide from it by burying himself further into the black satin sheets. It had worked…for about a minute more, but the sun was so startling in its heat that he could not stay under for long without losing breath. Groaning to himself, he searched for his spectacles with an unsteady hand. Once it lied properly on the bridge of his nose, he opened his eyes, and then immediately closed it. The pain in his eyes was now equivalent to the pain in his head.

The taste of stale ale was on his tongue. Though it had been a fairly long time, he could never quite forget the painful torture that came of sunlight and a hangover.

"Damn it." He muttered to himself while seeing little purple spots in his vision. Some_ idiot_ had left the draperies wide open so every corner of the room was lit up with bright, intrusive daylight. He stroked his eyes and cautiously opened his lids, peering at the unknown room with a cocked brow.

"Now how did I get here?" He questioned to no one in particular, quickly examining the room with a turn of his head. Looking out the window of the wide-open balcony with its curtains drifting too and fro, he had guessed that it was already late in the afternoon. "I overslept", he pondered with confusion, "but I never oversleep…"

After going through agony to sit up, he lifted the sheets from his body and was shocked at finding himself naked. A horrible flush went through his cheeks, and everything from last night quickly came back to him along with the amazingly hard bone-on that he now sported. Looking at the wooden floorings, he noticed sadly that only_ his_ clothing remained. There were no signs of the black, lace-trimmed corset or the white frilly knickers that were tossed carelessly along with his belongings last night. She had taken everything with her and left no note, he sighed. However, he peered to the pillow beside him and quickly dunked his head into the satiny softness of the covers. He chuckled boyishly as he caught a whiff of her signature scent. Ah, it was pure magic how he was reacting.

He sighed with a smile on his face as visions of her humbled him, making him so delirious with mirth that he'd thought it better to just lie there all day and continue. However, though the thought was tempting, he had things to do. Primarily the scandal that he would have to attest against once he got into the Ministry.

With his mood better, he cautiously stood to pick up his grey suit-jacket that had fallen on the floor. It was dirtied up from the moment he had leaned against the alley wall to watch Ginny. It was dirt-spotted at the back and he would have to ask the house elves to see if they could do anything for it. The fight with Ginny had also reminded him of the ring that he had carried so indolently the day before. If he remembered correctly, he had placed the small box in the calf of his boots.

Without a second's thought, he grabbed his boot and plunged his hand into it, certain that it was there but coming out with nothing. He tried the second one, and was disturbed with the same result.

He dug into the pocket of his suit-jacket and pulled out his wand.

"Accio ring box!"

Shocked that nothing came forth, he peeked around the floors to see if it accidentally dropped somewhere. After searching the whole room and every nook and cranny it possessed, he sat down with his head in his hands in a fit of dread and contemplated. Finally, after a minutes worth of thought, he saw it. It was in the dead of night that he had seen her blurred form and then there was that strange tingling sensation at the back of his head. Holy mother of Jesus! She used a confundus charm on him! That strange tingling sensation in his brain had been her goddamn spell!

"That whoring cunt!" Harry screamed, realizing that he had been duped, conned, and ransacked- in more ways than one. "Fuck!" He cussed in outrage and muttered a few more colorful words. Out of pure rage, he had kicked at the corner of his bed. Unfortunately the bed was made of solid kiln-dried wood and he had not worn shoes.

"Damn, damn, damn!" He scrabbled for his clothes and tripped clumsily as he struggled to get his trousers and boots on.

"That lying, two-faced, cock-sucking bitch!"

She had stolen his mother's ring right in front of his nose and had taken advantage of him whilst he foolishly played right into her hands. What the hell was he thinking?

He vowed for revenge.

Xxxx

_About four months before…_

_Lancashire, January 27th, 1810 _

It is universally known that a man with good fortune is in need of a wife.

And if it were up to the meddling mothers of society, they would see too it that Draco Malfoy was roped, tied-down, and trapped into wedding their daughters. They would do it quickly, mercilessly, and without conscience while they greedily eyed the entrenched bachelor's enormous fortune. There was, however, a slight problem. No _girl_ would be able to fill the role of his wife, because he could not bed a woman. The point being that he far preferred the company of _men_. Yes, Draco Malfoy, the famous heir to the Malfoy fortune and earldom was indubitably homosexual.

He had awoken that fine morning with an incredibly hard bone-on and a sneaking suspicion that he was not alone.

"Monsieur Malfoy, you are awake." That silky tone swept into his ears and he licked his dry lips remembering yesterday night's wonderful exploration with Louis. He turned his head a fraction of an inch and spotted his beloved smirking at the end of his bed, near his thighs. Those lips were already dressed and glossed, once again, in the sweet mead that they had dallied with the night before. He could remember the scintillating taste of it on his tongue, sweet and tangy like the rest of Louis' delectable body.

"Shall ve continue vhere ve left off?" Draco could not resist the accented english. The fluffy raven locks hid the adorably flushed face and while being pleasured, he could see that slightly muscled back move under the stroke of his hand. The tan skin was lusciously bronzed and shiny with body glitter and posh massaging oil. Louis' rosy bowed lips enveloped him to the hilt and he wantonly stared as the sticky honey was slathered onto his skin. It was not long before he had reached his climax.

Green eyes peered up at him mischievously, mocking his lack of movement, "Are you still there?"

He gave a gentle smile and stared long and deep into the green eyes. Which he faintly noticed was quite a bit dull, like a tint of bog weed and crushed ivy. Not as bright or as shiny as he'd expected. But he did not contemplate any further, rather busying himself as he positioned his hands onto the round, buttery cheeks of his companion's rump.

"You'll pay for that insufferable remark, I think, with a good spanking." Draco growled, suddenly dragging the boy over his lap. He ignored the giggling protests, and smoothed a palm over the beautiful set of buttocks. The writhing body in his lap surely knew what he was doing to Draco's lower anatomy.

"Your impudence, Louis, will only afford you more hits." He warned, taking care not to tell his companion that he was already going to be punished with more.

Just as he was about to meet that soft, warm bottom with the back of his hand, a resounding knock happened its way into his ears. The atmosphere quickly became dead and dry as the irksome knocking continued.

"What is it?" He yelled, his tone was crabby and annoyed.

"It is Dinky, sir. Lord and Lady Malfoy wish your presence at breakfast today." The alarmed pitch of the creature's tone made him stumble and blunder through the whole request.

"Shit." Draco sighed and hesitantly answered, "Tell them I'll be down in a moment."

"Of course." With a distinctive poof sound, the elf was gone.

Draco looked exasperatedly towards his companion, who had somehow maneuvered his hips so that he was now straddling Draco's thighs. Louis still looked completely debauched, like one of the young innocents in those provocative Spaniard canvases. Hair messy, eyes heavily narrowed in a sultry expression, and red, juicy lips that begged to be roughly kissed and bitten.

Draco inwardly groaned, tucking the boy deeper into his arms, "Ah Louis, my bonnie lad. Are we to ever be completely alone?"

Xxxx

There was a very awful, distilled silence that filled the dining room. The almost blatant terror on the air was seen through the shifting eyes of his mother. She peered hopelessly at him as if he was about to be judged with a life sentence to Azkaban.

"Draco." His name hung with a resonant echo.

"Yes, father?" He spoke moments after.

"Have you recently spoken to your uncle?"

"No."

"Well I have." Lucius snidely commented before taking a sip of his wine. "Do you know what we had discussed just yesterday morning?"

"Of course not, father. I wasn't there." Draco replied, wondering where this was going.

Lucius paused before placing his cup down. He stared at his only heir with a confliction of emotions, "You know, son, I've had fought with myself for months now whether or not I had raised you with the right and proper hand. And I've come a long way to the acceptance that is agreeable with me- Yes, I have." He gave off a precocious smile before flipping it upside down. "But you on the other hand, have not. Through the years, I had hoped that you would feel the need to more firmly establish yourself as a_ true_ Malfoy. That the desire of accomplishments from life would overtake you as it did me when I was your age, however, it did not. Which only goes to show me that you are the black lamb of this family, you have strayed more than once from the path that I'd put you on."

"My apologies, father, if I had offended you." Draco crisply acknowledged.

Lucius tilted his head once again with interest, "It's fascinating…"

"What is, father?"

"That you can speak to me with the perfect words and tone and still manage to sound so _insincere_."

"Then I am sor-,"

"No, do not apologize; it is one of your more admirable traits." Lucius frozenly glowers at him.

Draco slowly nodded, unsure of the irate attention.

"Now, back to what I had been discussing with your uncle. We had been in my study at the time he began boasting of his wonderful news. Apparently his son, Rothford, has just acquired a_ high_ position in the Department of Magical Equipment Control. _And_ not only that, he's also engaged to a fine woman from the Davies family. Isn't that wonderful, Draco?" Lucius smiled with gritted teeth.

"Sounds delightful, father- but what does this have to do with me?"

"Ah, always with such splendid timing, my son." Lucius smirked. "You see, after talking to that imbecilic half-brother of mine, I've determined something, something that has _everything_ to do with you."

Draco stiffened at his father's beaming 24-carat smile. "And this would be?"

"Draco, have you any interests?"

"Interests?"

"Arts? Music? Sports? Which do you prefer?" His father said, "Investments? Maths? Law?"

Draco was catching onto his father's devious plot, "No man of sense would only prefer the one."

Lucius was not amused, "Then I shall pick for you. It is to my consternation, Draco, that you have not accomplished a single thing in your life. Your cousin, even the obstinate little snot he is, is on the brink of obtaining a wife, and already has a decent career. While you, as my heir, have nothing but what I've freely given you. If you should hope- no, if you _aspire_ to retain your inheritance then you will have to prove yourself more worthy. Starting with a wife."

"A wife?" Draco stuttered, his eyes widened with shock.

"Yes, a wife. A marriage to a proper lady from a titled family to ensure the continuity of the Malfoy line, and do be sure it _is_ a lady. I don't want another one of those sodomyic bastards of yours in my house."

"Father, wouldn't you think this is a bit too drastic considering who_ I_ am?"

"You are my son, and you will do exactly as I say. I have never cared for your dalliances, Draco, or the gluttonous dissipation of our wealth that you so eagerly inhibit, nor your wild companions that march in and out of my house appearing as if they'd been invited straight from the streets. No," Lucius paused to take another sip, "Your mother did not care either; however that was because we believed, in time, you would follow in our footsteps and finally settle into your duty. It comes to mind now that all you might need is a good push in the right direction."

"You will marry- hopefully before the end of the year. If not… then I will take measures into my own hands and you do not want me to continue on those thoughts, son. Your cousin looks to be a better heir as each day passes."

Draco stayed frozen, no words to object to his fathers outright demand.

"You are dismissed."

He deeply breathed through his nose and stood up from his rigid position in his chair. Upon reaching the entryway, his father suddenly said,

"And one more thing, I will be sending you to stay with your godfather in London. I think it best that you finally become intoned with the knowledge that you had attained from all those years studying in France towards a potential career."

Xxxx

"I am to be married." Draco suddenly groaned, knocking back another gin.

A moment of silence happened upon the flourish of conversation. As quickly as it came, it had been succeeded by the voices of three men speaking at once,

"In London?"

"Oh my god."

"Your Louis seems a bit awful young to get into this sort of business."

"He means a lady, idiot."

"How could he? He doesn't know any—well, except for Pansy, but she could hardly be considered one, Ow! Why'd you hit me!"

"Because I like her, you dolt!"

"Well, who is it, then?" Lord Blaise Zabini asked seemingly the only decent question.

"I don't know." Malfoy sighed, "Father wants me to find a bride by the end of this year or else –supposedly- he'll rid me of my inheritance and give it to that rat-faced cousin of mine."

"Oh, dear." Lord Theodore Nott responded with widened eyes, "The bumbling, over-weight virgin?"

"Correct, just thinking of him makes me want to gag. The entire universe would have to _literally_ turn itself upside down before I ever let that little _cretin_ touch a knut of my money."

Sir Adrian Pucey cleared his throat "Hear, hear. Gives me the shivers to even think of what he would do to _you _if he got his hands on the inheritance."

"Hah, bastard would probably order me off the face of the earth, if he could." Draco sneered.

"So, this marriage business you've so keenly acquired-" Zabini started, but was cut off.

"I wouldn't be saying keenly, the ultimate shock of that moment had my heart stopping for the few seconds it took to process." Draco replied.

"How do you think you'll find one? Have you given any consideration to whom it might be?"

"No, not at all. I'll have to start attending more parties while in London; and social gatherings, and put myself on the marriage mart."

"Well, no offense, but do you really think a respectable lady will have you?" Pucey said.

"Yes, your reputation precedes you, Draco." Nott said.

"I assure you Nott, the Malfoy name and its fortunes carry more then enough to purchase the acquiescence of the most inflexible puritans in England."

"Perhaps you should stick to the poor ones," Nott exclaimed, "They might even permit to sharing your bed with Louis."

"The poor ones are mainly sluts. And I don't need my wife to permit me of anything. Louis is _mine_, and I will do as I desire." Draco called for another gin before turning back to them, "And why shouldn't I? Most men have mistresses, after all, and I'll be damned if I let wedlock turn me into a fugitive of my own country."

"Well, then, you only have to marry her, right? No having sex or impregnating her with your bastards?"

Draco stood up tall with a dominative sneer. His height was now more pronounced and noticeable as he tightly grips his fist, "Care to rephrase that, Zabini? Those 'bastards' are going to be mine, or else there would be no point in subjecting myself to this.

"You can't actually mean that you're going to bed her."

"How do you suppose I father the heir?"

"How do _you_ suppose you're going to get hard enough to father_ your_ heir? The fact that you're probably going to go limp by just the sight of her quim makes it an adamant problem for your marriage."

"Then she'll have to be pretty, at least."

"And a virgin." Nott put in.

"With a good upbringing." Zabini said.

"And sophisticated enough not to raise a fuss about your lifestyle." Pucey exclaimed.

"I admit the prospect is singularly unappealing." He shrugged into his seat and tipped the glass, pouring the hot liquid down his throat. He sighed, "I've got myself in worse shit then this, but this problem is just a mess." Tired of the whole situation, he laid his head into his open palm and lazily turned his glass. "What the devil am I to do?"

Xxxx


End file.
